Abandoning Despair
by Em Lee Squared
Summary: When Barnaby is admitted to the hospital after a serious injury and the doctors aren't so optimistic about his recovery, Kotetsu can't help but panic and worry that his lover will never awake again. Barnaby, however, has other plans.


White, white,_ everything _is white. Barnaby's eyes do their best to open, the thick lashes fluttering uncertainly until finally the emerald orbs are once again exposed to the light of the world. It's much too bright though, and he finds himself squinting and dazed by the overwhelming shine of the sun through the small hospital room window. Its intensity is only magnified as the rays reflect off the stark white sheets, the walls, even the gown he's been dressed in—it's like the whole room is burning bright, forcing him to close his eyes and return to the darkness of sleep.

The pain of keeping his eyes open no longer matters when he hears Kotetsu's voice from somewhere beside him. He finds himself overwhelmed with the need to see Kotetsu, touch him, never let go of him—

"Bunny?" The voice is closer now as Kotetsu leans in. "Bunny, please tell me you can hear me, Bunny. Please wake up."

There's something off about the familiar voice that's grown old with age. It's not as steady and strong as it usually is, instead laced with concern, emotion, and a desperation Barnaby has never heard before in the older man. His words are no longer hinted with playful teasing. There are no jokes. The lighthearted laughter has disappeared, replaced with whispered hints of sorrow and a choked distortion of his voice that could only come with tears.

Barnaby can't bear to hear Kotetsu that way, and his determination to move and speak and see once again is revived. He forces his head to turn, and though he feels as if his brain has been filled with lead, he manages. He hears a rush of air escape through Kotetsu's lips in a relieved sigh, and then he opens his eyes to one of the most upsetting things he's ever witnessed.

Kotesu has always been Barnaby's support and his strength. Barnaby is the sorrowful one, held up and so often rescued from his despair by his cheerful old man. Of course the blond realizes that Kotetsu is human, too, but he doesn't expect tears to be glimmering among the molten gold of Kotetsu's eyes, doesn't expect the man to be wiping the wetness from his eyes with a hasty, rough movement of his hand.

"Thank god, Bunny. I was so worried you weren't going to—"

"You're crying." The statement is simple, obvious, but it's all Barnaby can manage to say. His voice is rougher than usual, hoarse from disuse, and he clears his throat awkwardly before trying to raise himself up into a sitting position.

Kotetsu's hand is immediately on his chest, though, gently holding him down as the older man protests against the movement. "Please stay still. I don't know if you're strong enough to move, yet."

Normally, Barnaby would object, but Kotetsu seems so upset and so genuine in his concern that he bites his tongue and instead focuses on his surroundings once again. Everything is still a blur, a distorted mass of white hues and plain tones , what look like a couple of doors, Kotetsu's fuzzy outline and a couple of machines. Barnaby notices there's an IV in his arm for the first time when he begins weakly feeling around for his glasses and finds the movement of one arm inhibited.

That comforting hand is placed on his chest again, a signal to stop moving and relax, and Barnaby immediately obeys. It's times like these when he realizes just how close he is to Kotetsu, able to silently understand the veteran's desires and communicate without so much as opening his mouth. Kotetsu hands him his glasses and Barnaby is immediately more comfortable when he's able to clearly examine the room that seems to have become his home.

He wants to know how many days he's languished in this plain room, what his injuries are, what happened in the first place. He's sure it will all come back to him eventually, but right now his thoughts are clouded with the effect of what is likely a strong pain medication. It's nearly impossible for him to think on his own, and the effort in doing so only results in a headache.

"How long?" Barnaby manages to whisper through chapped lips.

Kotetsu sighs and gently strokes his lover's hair, the blond curls sliding through his fingers soft and smooth. The huff of air blown past his lips sounds almost mournful. "About four days, Bunny. The doctors said—" Kotetsu grits his teeth and swallows hard, turning his head away to hide the return of salt tears to his eyes.

Barnaby's heart is in his throat when he responds weakly, "What, Kotetsu? They said what?" Are his injuries really so serious? He notices vaguely that it's difficult to move his leg, and there's something wrapped around it—a cast or heavy bandaging.

"They said," Kotetsu pauses for another second before forcing himself to continue. "They were _worried_, and they said there was slight _possibility _you might not…" He licks his lips and clears his throat. "Pull through. Something about blood loss."

Barnaby blinks, bright eyes gazing curiously at Kotetsu along with a small tilt of his head._The doctors are worried that I might not live? How in the world is that possible when the only injury I seem to have sustained is a broken leg?_ He actually smiles a little, the grin tugging at his lips and brightening his pale face. "Kotetsu, that's ridiculous. You should know me better than that." The words he utters sound quiet and weak, but there's an unmistakable strength behind them and Kotetsu's heart swells in his chest.

Of course Barnaby will pull through.

The doctors don't know what they're talking about. They've never dealt with Barnaby Brooks Jr. before.

The moment that grin spreads across Barnaby's face, Kotetsu can't help but match the expression. Suddenly, he's at ease, and he knows everything will be all right. Barnaby's smile and his lovely eyes are beacons of hope that Kotetsu can't possibly ignore.

Barnaby Brooks Jr. is the most determined man he's ever known, and for a man with such a fierce desire to live, there is no such thing as a terminal injury.


End file.
